The Real Memory

The first thing Harry realized was that his head was hurting, a lot.

Trying to remember what had happened he shifted and reached up; expecting to feel some sort of bandage he was surprised to find that there was nothing there.

"Good morning, sir." A very polite, polished voice said as soon as Harry moved.

Cautiously, Harry cracked his eyes open. Before he could take in his surroundings light flooded the room as a grey-haired, polished man pushed open the floor to ceiling scarlet drapes. Harry gasped in pain as the light hit his eyes.

"Should I fetch you Molly's hangover cure, sir? Your parents are expecting to see you in thirty minutes."

Harry couldn't think straight. Molly? Did he mean his niece Molly? His mother-in-law? Was he even in his Police Memories anymore? Was this a different Molly? His head hurt too badly to think straight, he had to get rid of the pain so he could think.

"Ah, yes, please," Harry managed to get out through gritted teeth. It was all he could do not to throw-up whatever was inside of him.

"Very good, sir."

As soon as the man left the room Harry stumbled out of bed, heading towards another door in the room, hoping it was a bathroom.

He was in luck.

Paying almost no attention to his surroundings, Harry made his way carefully across the cool marble floor to the sink. Carefully turning on one of the gold faucets he splashed cold, refreshing water on his face. Instantly he felt slightly better.

Willing to do anything to get rid of the pain he stuck his whole head under the faucet, being very careful not to slam it into the polished marble sink. Just the cold water helped him think more clearly.

What was he doing here? He had apparently switched worlds again, that was for certain, but how had he done it?

There was a subtle clearing of the throat from the doorway. Harry pulled his head carefully from the water and turned around to see the older gentlemen standing in the doorway with a glass of some green mixture.

"Here you go, sir."

Harry did his best to smile, "Ah, thanks."

Carefully he crossed the bathroom to take the glass. As he did so he finally noticed his surroundings. The room was all gleaming gold and polished marble. Never had he seen such a lavish room before and it was apparently his.

Through the doorway he could see that the bedroom he had been unable to see clearly before, due to the pain, was even more lavish. The floor was a rich hardwood and covered with thick, intricate rugs. The walls were covered in rich fabrics and expensive paintings. It looked like a room Harry would expect to see at Malfoy Manor.

As soon as he took the glass and began drinking it down the old man opened another door into a closet as big as Harry's room back at the Dursley's. Harry drank the nasty liquid as he watched clothes get picked out for himself.

Harry felt awkward as he stripped off his clothes and began to put on new ones. The servant, butler, or whatever was insisted on helping Harry button everything. His hand-eye coordination was extremely lacking at the moment. It was all he could do to stay on his feet, though his head was feeling a bit better.

He soon found himself dressed in an immaculate navy blue suit, crisp white shirt, and scarlet tie.

He didn't recognize himself. Shifting, he tried to get more comfortable. He found himself instantly wanting to wear something, anything else. He didn't care if it was a wizard's robes, soccer uniform, police uniform, or just jeans and a t-shirt. Anything would be better than this.

"I know you're uncomfortable, sir, but your parents want you to look professional."

Harry was so lost. Why was he being told what to do by his parents? He was thirty-five! And why would they require him to dress like this? Where were his memories for this world?

"Your arm please, sir."

Not even thinking, Harry stuck his arm out and watched as the old man put cufflinks on him. Once one arm was done Harry held his wrist close to his face, looking at the cufflink. It was eerily familiar looking, shaped like a pair of fine wings with a small ball between them. It took Harry a second to dig through his memories and remember what it looked like.

It was a snitch.

What was a snitch doing here? Had Harry finally made it back to a world with magic?

Once both cufflinks were on Harry reached out one finger to delicately touch the intricate golden snitch. Half a second after his finger brushed the gold he felt himself being sucked into his memories again.

There were now four memories of his childhood. In one he was hopelessly abused by his aunt and uncle, in the second he was cherished as much as his cousin, the third had him growing up with his parents, but the fourth was steeped in tragic luxury,

His father was arrested by the state when he was three for treason and quickly executed. All Harry had left of him were the small, strange cufflinks. Two years later his stepfather appeared on the scene, having finally convinced his mother that she had to move on, her son needed a father.

They had moved from one of the bleak, cell-like apartments into this huge mansion. And so, Harry had gone from being one of the millions of unlucky children being groomed to be mere drones to becoming one of the privileged few that could control his future.

Not that he had done so.

Harry couldn't help but feel disgust at the person he was in this memory. There had been no goal, no dream, no future. He had merely existed.

Except when his mother or stepfather wanted him to do something he had partied. Every night he went to bed drunk and every morning he awoke with a hangover. It was a never ending cycle that he had been following for almost twenty years now.

But Ginny, where was Ginny?

Desperately Harry searched through his new memories. He knew he couldn't save her from Greyback in the Police Memories – it was too late for that. But maybe he could protect her in this world a little better.

Harry felt a shout of joy escape his lips, it probably startled poor Jones, his valet, but he didn't care.

He had found Ginny in this world; she'd been right under his nose for most of his life.

She was the maid that cleaned his room every day.

The very maid his Wealth Memory self had been trying to seduce for the past two years.

Harry had the oddest feeling that she wasn't going to be too happy about his newfound desire to protect her.